O.M.G.

God is the fizz/pop of a failing light bulb.
God is a smug shoe salesman in a designer store.
God is a red warning sign on a sharp bend.
God is one segment of a Cadbury’s chocolate orange
and an ice cube in a shaken not stirred.
God is an invisible splinter in the sole of your foot.
God is a lost pair of scissors in the back of a drawer
or a set of cookie cutters in fancy shapes.
God is the slice of lemon in your hot toddy.
God is the knot in your umbilical cord,
the stinking pus of a wound that never heals
and the stained teeth you forgot to clean.
God is a dandelion clock on a windy day.
God is butter melting on toasted crumpet.
God is a daub of yellow paint on blank canvas.
God is a broken windscreen in the fast lane
or a hit and run on a dark street.
God is a sandwich cut into tiny squares.
God is the dogs of Chernobyl looking for a home.
God is the gardener who prunes hard every winter.
God is a white feather on your path.

 

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Photo by the author

 

 

 

Little Things

 

A Snail’s Pace

Like God, he/she moves in mysterious ways
hidden within a pearly spiral, an apex, a beauty
or a monster depending on your point of view.

Y=0.037x-1.38

Undulating, pedalling in a wave of his/her creation,
a little bit of rhythm and a lot of soul, leaving signs
in the morning light seen only by poets and posties.

Y=0.11x-0.77

She/he is everywhere but invisible; weaving magic
in the green silken night, clinging to the mossy slabs
of country churchyards or clustered by the rowans.

Y=0.48x-6.66

Like God, the Gastropod is a loner needing no mates.
His/her locomotion conquers all, crossing every path.
You must mind each crushing step and wait.

 
Footnote1:- Lyrics quoted from Locomotion by Little Eva.
Footnote2:- y=speed of land snail, x = length of snail’s foot

 

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Photographic image by the author

 

 

And here’s Little Eva performing her 60s classic pop song…

 

The Contest

If only Eve could don a straw hat and vanish to the Isle of Paros!
Instead, she was trapped in the Garden, weaving hard lines

of blood as the beginning people judged her pink lady tears.
Where was her power over water? Lilith dried out in the desert.

They shall possess her forever and dwell there
from generation to generation.

As the mushroom cloud rose over the maroon lagoon
Eve wondered if it was, in fact, a good time for a trip.

She was wearing her lucky pearls and the new horizon
walking boots, birthday gifts from the ferryman.

It is He who casts the lot for them,
And with His hands He marks off their shares of her.

Sad to see swine die but she was really more of a snake person.
So she turned her last page with the left hand

of darkness and prepared to recycle her perfect skin,
gala smooth and hoping for first prize. Ka-Ching!

 

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Photograph created by the author

 

 

The Gleaning

I follow mother’s crooked
path beyond the giant privet hedge
where once I found blackbird eggs. Perfect
spheres of eau de nil slipped through careless
fingers and smashed on paving stones set by father
years before. On the hill, the shed cowers beneath the apple tree
where once I found God. Perched up top, he was singing
Bowie songs and watching the neighbours through binoculars.
Ashes to ashes; Jennifer Jones kissed the coal man.
Dust to dust; Marjorie Moony hoovered nude.
I never done good and I never done bad.
I wanna come down right now and try
mother’s apple pie
but never
say why
never say
never say
………………….

 

The Gleaning is an example of a concrete poem where the shape of the page echoes the theme.  This one is supposed to represent an apple tree.

 

 

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Image by the author